Winter Kiss
by MelissaCanFlyy
Summary: With lies you may get ahead in the world - but there is no going back.   AU Post-TDK, Joker, Bruce/Batman and OC.  No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

**Don't be fooled into thinking that this is going to be a hopeless Stockholm syndrome romance between the OC and The Joker, because it isn't. That's the main point I'm trying to get across here. Nevertheless, the real romance is between my OC and Bruce Wayne/Batman. The Joker is just a twisted clown who kidnaps the OC (with reason, of course. I hate random kidnapping that doesn't lead anywhere. The Joker has better things to do than to kidnap and rape random young women from off the street) and tortures her mentally, sometimes physically but only minor (no rape involved). This story is rated M, just in case of any future disturbances. Possibly swearing, disturbing subjects such as past traumatic experiences which will be mentioned in more detail as the story progresses. As for sexual scenes, I probably doubt it as it has hardly any relevance in this story.**

**In previous stories I have written with The Joker I have used Heath's. I have troubled myself in thinking that my portrayal of him is somewhat out of character. In advance, I'll apologise for that. But I'd just thought I'd let you know, that I am **_**not **_**The Joker, so therefore every little detail will not be perfect. Someone left a review in a previous story which actually helped me a lot when I used to worry about keeping him in character. "****Well Joker is a complex character and will be portrayed differently by everyone whilst still retaining WHO the Joker is- and I love your incarnation of the Joker." It is so true and very reassuring. My reviewers seemed to enjoy my new portrayal of The Joker, so hopefully if you read this story, you will too.**

**[I do not own any DC characters mentioned within this story. Only my OC, Delilah Rivera and others that will be mentioned in the story.]**

***.*.*.***

**Summary**

Delilah Rivera is a failed author and takes on a job as a writer for a Gotham newspaper seeing as her book writing skills are taking her nowhere. However, her job as a columnist isn't much of an improvement. Seeing as Delilah is fairly new to Gotham she has near to no experience about Gotham's past and even current stature so has difficulty writing decent articles.

The Joker has recently escaped from Arkham Asylum after only a couple of years being locked away thanks to Batman. Batman had disappeared while mention of Joker was scarce, but has been spotted now that The Joker is threatening the streets again.

In a time of desperation Delilah is almost forced into doing something life threatening which she will soon regret. A single lie spirals out of control and endangers the life of herself and new fiancé, Bruce Wayne.

*.*.*.*

**Epilogue**

_**I want to sleep but I hear voices,**_

_**I hear them calling out to me,**_

_**This winter kiss has left me poisoned,**_

_**And I will never be the same again**_

_**~Winter Kiss – Young Guns~**_

When you're sitting in a cop car, dripping wet, covered in bruises and contusions and the taste of red, grease paint still on your lips, the best thing to do at this point is just let it slide. Enjoy the silence while it lasts. I listened and watched the flashing sirens in the ambulance close behind me as they turned a different corner and eventually disappeared completely out of sight. I sighed a sigh of relief, yet a tiny hint of worry still lingered in the pit of my stomach.

I retracted away from the back window and into the hard seat of the cop car, returning to tonguing the painful cut on the right corner of my lip that would stop stinging if only I'd stop flicking it. The taste of blood was still strong from the minor laceration (it wouldn't scar; I was sure of that), but the taste that was more disturbing was _his_ taste. _His_ lips had forever stained mine and I knew things would never be the same again.

Silent and unwilling tears fell and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

"You okay back there, Delilah?" The male cop asked from the front of car. He'd obviously noticed the unstoppable tears. Even though the cops had done very little to save me at all and only managed to enter the scene long after I had everything under control, I was still grateful. They had been everything but uncaring since they had shown up.

"I'm cold," was the only thing I was able to stutter out solemnly in reply. He smiled warmly which made me feel as if everything was actually going to be fine after this. I knew it wasn't. My once genuine happy-go-lucky nature had been forever sullied all due to one fatal mistake. One little lie unraveling out of control and into the clutches of the most wanted man in Gotham. The Joker.

I'd never been a good author or writer – partly the reason for my current mess – but let me tell you a story that will soon make my current disposition clear.

*.*.*.*

**Chapter 1**

_**The beginnings and ends of all human undertakings are untidy.**_

_**~John Galsworthy~**_

It all started on a strangely humid autumn day. I remember this because the day was supposed to be my wedding day. October 2nd to be exact. I say 'supposed to be', meaning the fucking groom decided not to show up. Yes, I was left at the altar by none other than the infamous, playboy billionaire, Bruce Wayne. I was completely humiliated, yet I hadn't shed a single tear. I was infuriated more than anything.

Bruce Wayne was the kind of person who'd show up tardy for every event – still looking smug and unapologetic – but had the excellent charisma and cunning wit to be able to get away with it. Or get away with anything for that matter.

The people sat in the pews of the church had been bickering nervously, verbally giving their condolences aimed at me, but spoken to other people. I didn't need their sympathy. Why would I? I knew hardly anyone in the building at all. Many of them were Bruce's friends or relatives. One person, however, I recognised and was now approaching closer to the altar at which I was standing at. This was my mother, Eve Howard, formerly Eve Rivera before she re-married. I kept my original surname, however, seeing as I saw no reason for me to change it as well.

Noticing her arrival, I pulled the veil over my head to reveal my rosy red cheeks from embarrassment. So much for the blushing bride. I was thankful that someone had decided to approach me after almost two hours of waiting for Bruce. Even the vicar was long gone in his own little world. Didn't he have other events to attend to?

"Delilah sweetie," my mother started, "I don't think he's going to show." She tried her best to keep the sympathising smile on her face, but I knew exactly what she was going to do next. "But don't be too hard on him. You know how busy he can get. There must have been something extremely important happening in the Wayne towers or...something. Please, don't let this ruin your engagement and relationship." Exactly. She would say something like that. Ever since my father died I noticed how desperate and eager she had become to keep her lavish lifestyle so that she could continue indulging in plush luxuries that had just been hand given to her all her life. But once father died, all of the luxuries that came easily soon stopped. Now that I was marrying a billionaire, she was positively over the moon. What more can a mother want? She'd stop at nothing to make this wedding happen.

She couldn't see, however, that I wasn't marrying him just for the money. Bruce was so much more than that. People just failed to see it. His true side was completely cover coated by his smug, playboy attitude.

Clearly, judging by what my mother had just said, I wasn't as important to Bruce as some work at Wayne Enterprises. "Please, don't be upset."

"I'm not upset, mother. I'm just...angry. Where could he be?" I asked, the anger now turning to concern and worry. "The wedding's going to have to be rescheduled to a later date."

As if on cue, the old, vicar appeared between mine and my mother's conversation. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I have to inform you that it is getting pretty late. Even if the groom does show up now, it'll be too late to hold the ceremony."

I nodded, "I understand." I was about to speak out to all of the guests, but apparently I couldn't speak for myself. My mother could do all that for me.

"I'm sorry to announce that the wedding will have to be postponed to a later date. I'm also sorry for having to waste everyone's time, but I do appreciate everyone for sticking with us. You will all be informed on the new date sooner rather than later. I'm sorry for the abrupt notification." I heard a few sighs as my mother explained the predicament, but it was clear they all understood well enough. As the guests were leaving, my mother turned back around to face me with that sympathetic smile still plastering her lips. "Do you want a lift home? You can stay and mine and your dad's if you don't feel like talking to Bruce for tonight," she suggested attempting to be helpful.

"He's not my dad and he's only my stepdad in name. And thanks for the offer but I'd rather go back to Bruce's penthouse. We need to talk. The lift there would be great though." Eve rolled her eyes at me before gripping gently at my manicured hand and leading me out of the church.

A few people still stood outside of the church waiting for cabs or another form of transport home and sent me their silent condolences with their eyes as I walked past them. My shoes crunched in the dying, orange leaves on the ground as I made my way over to Geoff – my stepdad – who was waiting beside his car. There was nothing wrong with Geoff. He was a friendly and loving man, who'd willingly oblige to take the role as my father any day. But that wasn't what I wanted. I felt sorry for him more than anything. He was slightly blinded at the fact that my mother may only have married him for his money.

Geoff wasn't much of a talker, so instead of saying anything to me, he opened the car door for me to enter in the back. Struggling slightly, I stumbled into the car with my long dress. This dress I had been yearning to wear ever since I bought it, especially for the wedding. My desire had completely been shattered by Bruce's selfish act and now I desired nothing more than to take it off.

The car ride to Bruce's apartment was silent. An awkward silence. The kind of silence where you're afraid to gulp in fear of it being too loud. Every noise made seemed to sound ten times louder than it normally would and managed to attract more attention than needed. I was thankful when Geoff finally pulled up to the curb beside my apartment blocks and I – a little too eagerly – left the car.

"Wait, wait, wait! Do you want me to keep you company for a while? I'll stay in the apartment with you, if you want," my mother hollered out of the passenger window.

"No...I just want to be alone for now. I'll call you later," I said glumly before continuing towards the building. I heard a quiet 'okay' before the tyres of the car began scraping along the road again.

When I entered the building the receptionist's eyes immediately glued onto me. She looked confused, but still held that fake smile she was forced to wear, like a Barbie doll. "Did you enjoy your wedding?" She asked, staring at my appearance up and down. I didn't reply. I just glared at her furiously. For what reason, I was unaware. It wasn't her fault Bruce didn't show.

"You wouldn't happen to know if Bruce was here recently, would you?" I asked from afar, not wanting to approach the reception desk.

"No, miss, I wouldn't." She looked even more confused, but I still didn't bother to explain. It wasn't her business. I nodded before walking over to the elevator.

When the elevator doors finally opened, I was met with complete darkness. There was no-one else home. Not even Alfred the butler. Where they were was beyond me and now I was beginning to panic. What if he had done a runner? Fled from his troubles to another country. What if he was dead? Abruptly after the horrific thought, I rushed over to the house phone and dialled Bruce's mobile number. Many rings later and there was no answer. I tried Wayne Enterprises and they said he wasn't in the building. Therefore, I began repetitively dialling Bruce's cell over and over, but each time I was irritatingly answered with answer phone.

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing where Bruce was so I had no other option but to sit in the armchair and wait eagerly for his presence.

At least four hours passed before I heard the elevator doors opening. Instantaneously after, I shot up from the chair and hurried towards the elevator doors. "Where the hell have you been?" I shrieked at a tired looking Bruce.

"Look, babe, I'm sorry. I -"

"Don't give me that crap! I don't want to hear it! Where have you been? I can't believe you'd do this to me! No notice, no phone call, no signs! What's wrong with you! Do you have any idea how upset I am right now? Stop touching me!" I screamed as I shoved his hands away from my arms. He was relentless, however, and wouldn't stop trying to calm me down. "I was completely humiliated today, in front of everyone. I couldn't believe it. I mustn't be as important to you as I thought I was," I stated, now crying. The tears had finally broken through and Bruce had managed to engulf me in an embrace.

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry. Calm down. I am really sorry about everything. I still want this wedding to happen. It was just that Wayne Enterprises is really hectic at the moment and I had to be called in. I had an accident in work and I ended up having to be taken to the hospital -"

"What? Why didn't you tell me any of this?" I screamed.

"I was busy. It's nothing major, just a few...cuts and bruises," he explained briefly.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay. But I'm still a little mad at you for not calling."

"I'm sorry. I really am. But right now, all I want to do is go to bed. And you look beautiful in your dress by the way. You don't know how sorry I am. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me. We can reschedule our wedding tomorrow morning."

"I'm hope you know how much stress this is going to put me under. I can't believe you. You will be sorry when y-" My sentence was cut short when Bruce's lips collided with mine.

"Let's go to bed," Bruce suggested as he clasped my hand gently. And just like that, I forgave him. Call me weak, but I couldn't resist with his tired eyes and his pleading yet smug grin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**The history of man is the history of crimes, and history can repeat. So information is a defence. Through this we can build, we must build, a defence against repetition.**_

_**~Simon Wiesenthal~**_

The next morning was a bright one. The weather lately was extremely shocking. Seldom does Gotham ever have nice weather, so now that we were having sunny spells in autumn it was amazing. I took this nice weather as a chance to get out of the house for a while. I was a bit of an OCD freak when it came to my schedules. When something didn't go as planned, my mood would be tarnished for at least 24 hours. In the mornings I liked to go for a jog through Gotham – the concrete jungle as I like to call it - and I tended to wear oversized headphones. They didn't necessarily have to be playing any music; they just decreased the chance of people talking to me. When people talked to me, they'd through my schedule off course. And also I wasn't much of a people person.

Once again, when I first woke up, Bruce wasn't lying beside me. I assumed he was at Wayne Enterprises as usual, when we both should have been on our honeymoon now. A honeymoon in Hawaii sounded idealistic at the moment, but now that had been thrown out of the window.

As soon as I was ready, I darted out of the penthouse, not even having a chance to say goodbye to Alfred. I turned the volume up on my iPod as I placed the headphones over my head. _All These Things I've Done_ by _The Killers_ was the first song to play when I pressed shuffle and soon after I was jogging smoothly down the concrete path.

Outside, the weather was still extremely humid like the day before. The air was like blankets and I began finding it hard to breathe. The bad thing about jogging in nice weather was that the streets were always crowded. Nice weather attracted more people, so I had to swerve in an out of people to be able to jog at all. People were so inconsiderate when they didn't know you. They're never bothered about anyone but themselves and wait for you to move out of the way before they even think about moving themselves.

By the time I had found a relatively smooth path, I felt a strange vibration in my upper thigh. I felt around and realised that it was my cell phone ringing. I came to a full stop in the middle of the path, to everyone else's displeasure judging by the annoyed sighs and grumbles. I stood against the wall and removed my headphones to take the call. The caller ID read 'Tyler Banks'. This was my boss. I worked for a Gotham newspaper, _Gotham Daily_. Tyler was a stuck up jerk who I happened to hate.

"Hello?" I began, after answering the phone.

The gruff voice on the other end of the phone answered with, "Miss Rivera. I heard about your wedding yesterday. You have my deepest sympathy." Don't be fooled. He may seem like a caring and generous boss at the moment, calling up to see how one of his employees is doing on their time off. I knew this was only a set up into trickery.

"Yeah...well. Shit happens." Poor choice of words. I hate phone conversations; I never know what to say.

"-Yes. Okay. Considering that you won't be needing time off anymore, I'd like you to come in to work tomorrow. We're low on staff and we need to have a brand new, plausible story in our newspaper. As you know profits are low and if we're able to overtake _Gotham Times_ profit wise, we'll be back on track." _Gotham Times_ was a rival newspaper business which the newspaper I worked with had been competing against ever since I moved to Gotham. Mr Banks was eager to beat his rival and never succeeded in doing so, henceforth his grumpy attitude being taken out on his employees. All the employees were blamed for all his mistakes. It's selfish to say that I thought I was being singled out by being treated terribly even more so than everyone else. But sometimes, that's what it felt like.

"Okay, Mr Banks. I'll be in my cubicle by half eight," I sighed. At this point, I couldn't refuse. Refusing meant I'd probably lose my job. It was already on the line as it was, with my tardiness and flop articles and stories.

"Goodbye, Miss Rivera," Tyler stated before hanging up without a reply from me. I'd like to think he's just a busy man, but reality of it all is that he's just an uncaring ogre.

I continued with my jog until I reached a small corner shop. I was usually in here five minutes earlier, if it wasn't for Tyler calling me up and throwing me off track. I grabbed the usual bottle of water and newspaper (_Gotham Times_ but Tyler didn't know this. Admittedly, the stories and articles in there were much more interesting and well wrote and it was also a lot cheaper than the newspaper I worked for. Tyler's a jerk anyway).

Something caught my eye on the front of the newspaper, but before I could take a closer glance, the cashier stole the paper away from me and placed it in a plastic bag. I didn't even want a bag. Nevertheless, she thrust her arm expectantly and mumbled, "Two fifty." I deliberately dropped the money onto the counter and ignorantly walked off with the bag in hand, returning to my music.

The next place I jogged to was Gotham City Central Park. It tended to be calm and tranquil at this time of the morning, but you never can tell in a city so busy and bustling. I pulled out the newspaper from the plastic bag and looked at the front page. The headline read _'History Repeats'_. I hadn't been living here long so what could have repeated itself was beyond me. On the front page was a mug shot. At first I thought the picture was a gag, judging by the appearance of the man in the mug shot. The man's make-up was poorly done in some kind of clown get up and his hair was just below his ear in limp curls. The greyscale image obscuring his features even more so wasn't doing him any justice. Once reading the caption below, I realised this was no gag. He apparently went by the name, 'The Joker'. Another picture below was a blurry CCTV shot of a man in a black cape. This was 'Batman'.

I read the first paragraph, but the story was still extremely vague to me. Apparently, this joker guy escaped from Arkham Insane Asylum last night and Batman – who hadn't been seen since The Joker was locked away – was also there on the scene. I couldn't help giggling at the sound of the article. It sounded like some ridiculous children's story. But I stifled the laughter when I realised this wasn't a laughing matter. This was serious and judging by the way the article was written, this was going to strike fear into every Gotham citizen's heart.

The article was intriguing and I couldn't help but want to read more. However, I was soon interrupted before I had a chance to continue.

"Boo!" I heard someone whisper-shout in my ear. A squeaky squeal passed through my lips and I ended up throwing my bottle of water and my newspaper to the ground. I turned around quickly to come face to face with Bruce. I slapped his shoulder playfully when I realised who it was and hurriedly picked up the items.

"Bruce! That's not funny! It's not as if you haven't made me angry all ready. Which by the way, I still am," I uttered, deliberately facing away from him moodily.

"Don't be like that. I said I'm sorry. I promise, I'll do all of the rescheduling so you don't have to," he assured. He was now sitting beside me and forcing my face to look in his direction. I smiled when he brushed my blonde hair away from my face.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked as I folded up the newspaper.

"I saw you from across the street. I was just coming out of the Wayne towers when I saw you sitting here alone." I'd noticed how his words had gradually slowed down and he had quietened, his attention becoming more focused on the newspaper on my lap more than anything. Without asking, he gently picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. His eyes quickly scanned over the paper and became full of concern. When he had finally put the newspaper down, neither of us knew what to say. He didn't know whether to explain the situation to me and I couldn't word my question properly.

"About that, um...can you explain? What happened?" I questioned unsurely.

Bruce sighed and rubbed invisible sleep away from his eyes. It was clear that this wasn't something he wanted to remember and I regretted ever bringing it up. "A few years ago something...happened. This man, this psychopath...he was dangerous. He held a reign over all of Gotham with threats and serious acts of violence. All of Gotham was scared; he killed hundreds. Batman was trying to be the hero. His one rule was to kill no-one and...he broke it. He managed to lock The Joker away but broke his rule in the process. Ever since The Joker has been locked away Batman's never been seen. Gotham didn't want their so called hero anymore."

"This city just gets weirder and weirder every day. Everything's going to be alright, isn't it?" I asked, unsure of myself. Having only a second hand view of the story, I shouldn't be the one to judge.

"Only time can tell."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_**The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one.**_

_**~Oscar Wilde~**_

The alarm clock rings to wake me up. For me, seven o'clock is painfully early in the morning. Obviously not for Bruce considering he was already out of bed and absent from the household. It made me wonder what time Bruce actually woke up in the mornings. I'd fall asleep with him and scarcely wake up with him by my side. When he did decide to leave, he never stirred me.

Sure enough, the apartment was completely empty. I stretched and yawned as I searched for Alfred before leaving the penthouse. Even he had vanished. When I did leave the penthouse, in my plain black pencil skirt and my plain white blouse, I headed for the plain old newspaper building to start my plain boring job. At least I didn't have to pick up my bosses coffee anymore from Starbucks. No, I wasn't a secretary. When I first had this job, Tyler Banks was without one, so he took it in his duty to make the new girl run his own errands. Exploitation is what that's called. Taking advantage of me just because I was the new girl and couldn't do anything about it, or else I'd lose by job. Starting a new job was just like starting a new school. The people working in my department were just as cruel as school children. With their little pranks and soft jokes, it felt exactly like school.

That phase had passed, however, and I was treated like a normal employee – most of the time. I guess my job did have its benefits. If it wasn't for my job in _Gotham Daily_, I'd never have met Bruce. I was one of the few couples left that hadn't met on _Facebook_ or any other social networking site for that matter. I always wonder what couples who met that way would say to their children when asked how they met. The story must be positively riveting. 'Oh yes. I and your father met when he tried to steal my chicken on _FarmVille_. We sent each other pokes for hours.' Yes, riveting.

That's beside the point though. I remember the first day I met Bruce Wayne, fully dressed in an Armani suit, entering the Wayne Enterprises building. At the time I didn't know what the building was, which was kind of foolish, considering it had a large sign in white lettering outside. It was just a coincidence that I happened to talk to Bruce first when I entered. I asked him if this was the Gotham Daily tower and I immediately become awestruck when I saw his appearance. I was still uncertain that that was Bruce Wayne at that moment, but I felt an attraction immediately. He was friendly enough to show me the way to the tower I was looking for and on recognising me as a newcomer in Gotham, he also offered to take me on a tour of Gotham one night. Thus began the build to a foundation of a beautiful relationship.

As I entered the building, Mr Banks was already at the entrance and ready to pounce on me. He looked pissed. No surprise there then. "Where the hell have you been?" Tyler exclaimed as he shook his hands in the air as if the anger was managing to vibrate through his whole body. I took a quick glance at my watch; 08:25. I was five minutes early, what was he so pissy and moany about?

"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again," I apologised nevertheless. I did my best to sound as unenthusiastic as possible, but at this point, I didn't think Tyler cared. Uneasy sweat had formed on his brow and on his balding head, making the visible skin shinier than it was normally. His cornflower blue shirt had begun to un-tuck below his tubby belly and his navy blue tie had slackened. These were clear signs of severe stress. Severe because Tyler usually looked relatively kempt when he was at his normal level of stress.

"There's no time for apologies! We need to have business meeting right now! Hurry, hurry, hurry! People are already waiting in the conference room!" _Do you know what's not helping me get there faster, hmm? You're screaming. Barking orders does not help this situation at all._ The things I'd love to say to my boss. Someday, someday.

I was aggressively pulled into the conference room without a second to even protest. I tripped over my own black heels as I stumbled over to one of the many black office chairs surrounding an oval shaped table. I smiled at the other people sitting around the same table, as if non-verbally apologising for my tardiness. They didn't seem fazed at all anyway.

Tyler walked to the front of the room with his hands tucked behind his back. He casually looked to the ground and took his goddamned time in reaching the front of the conference. He was lulling us all into thinking he was all calm and collected with everything. With his faux smile and his easy eyes. I knew better though. He wasn't happy and knew this because I've seen this act and demeanour many times before. It was his way of intimidation. Even though I was expecting him to explode any second now to lecture us about, yet again another fault of ours, I jumped when I slammed down a newspaper onto the oval table in front. So did many of the other employees in the room with me.

"Do you know how many copies of yesterdays _Gotham Times_ sold? Over 600,000. 600,000. Guess how many we sold? A measly, 250,000." He was still calm. It was clear that everyone was just preparing for his inevitable outburst. He was holding up the newspaper with the clown's face printed on it. His face seemed to be everywhere now. It was inescapable. "– How could you let this happen? You imbeciles! Yet again you let these bastards win by writing flops with your 'what's hot and what's not' shit! No-one wants to hear that! If you're going to write good articles then you're going to have to get a little dirt under the finger nails. You going to have to get out there and _find_ your story! Unfortunately, Gotham Times already beat us to The Joker punch line. I don't know where they got the story or how they got it, all I know as they're always one step ahead of us! The Joker only broke out of Arkham a couple of days ago, so judging by the speed they were able to publish his story, you're going to have to work fast to find a new and fresh one!"

Great, a renowned psychopath has just escaped from Arkham and he's more concerned about how he didn't get this story first. No doubt, he would have taken all the credit if we had been the first to find out. I swear, this man really thought we were miracle workers. There's no way someone can just immediately think up a great article in the click of their fingers. Something important actually has to happen first.

"Now, there's no time like the present! Get working!" Oh, he forgot to call us slaves. Infectious human waste.

I exited the room and walked to my cubicle passing other workers on the way. It was all one big race to see who'd get the top story first. Of course, no story was ever good enough for Mr Banks. It was a big rat race and we were the rats, forever typing on these keyboards in hope to appease the boss. It was almost inhumane really. I never wanted to be stuck in this job. When I was younger – before moving to Gotham – I used to write my own books. However, I was a failed author. The minimal books I did write were flops and the books I tried to continue just failed in general. When my insomnia struck, so did writer's block. The insomnia disappeared when I moved to Gotham. What caused the insomnia in the first place was beyond me. My previous place of residence must have haunted me subliminally in some way. Something was disturbing me. Something I had been trying to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_**The most dangerous untruths are truths moderately distorted.**_

_**~Georg Christoph Lichtenberg~**_

All I could hear were the repetitive sounds of eager fingers typing away at keyboards. I felt as if I was the only one not typing. Just like everyone else in the same writing department as me, we had all gone for the obvious subject to write on; The Joker. But unfortunately, unlike my colleagues, I knew very little about him. This is the reason for my lack of typing. What do you write about someone you don't know? I had no other choice but to expand the facts that I did know. Maybe somehow make it subliminal to the reader that they've just read the same thing over and over again.

I rubbed away sweat at the back of my neck and started the drivel typing. It was total and utter rubbish, but at this point anything would suffice just to be able to say that I'd actually written something today.

I glanced at my watch after finishing the article. Shockingly, it had taken all day to complete. An entire day's work spent on just one measly article. I printed it out so that I could hand it into the boss, but before I could reach the printout, another hand snatched it away from me. It was Tyler and he had already begun reading it before I could even clarify that that was my article. As he read it, his eyebrows became increasingly furrowed. That wasn't a good sign.

"Delilah?" Tyler hushed.

"Yes, Mr Banks?"

"Do you know how many newspapers are going to have this exact story in their newspapers?"

"- A lot?"

"Exactly! So what makes you think that people are going to want to read the same old crap over and _over_ again!" He yelled rhetorically. I heard sighs of exhaustion from all my colleagues as they realised they had made the same mistake.

I watched him crumple up that article and tear it to shreds as if this article was a death threat to him. Seeing him destroy my work was heartbreaking for me – even if it was a lousy piece of writing. "I'm sorry, Mr Banks. I didn't realise. I just thought that seeing as at the moment, The Joker is the top talked about subjects that maybe he'd be the obvious choice to write about. Forgive me for a having an interest in the reader's interest," I apologised my voice dripping with cynicism. Clearly, Tyler didn't comprehend the sarcasm seeing as he didn't blow his top like I had expected him to.

"That's okay, Miss Rivera. Just go home and write another article for me for tomorrow morning," he ordered and walked off instantaneously after. I didn't even have a chance to protest. Why was I the only one being given homework? The other workers had clearly made the same mistake as me and somehow I was the one to blame for everyone else's mess?

I picked up my leather bag beside my desk and decided not to waste anymore time in that hellhole.

It was time for some alone time. The only place where I really felt relaxed was at this jazz bar, Razzmatazz, which I went to often. I've never been a big fan of jazz personally, but the place tended to be quiet where everyone would keep to themselves instead of pestering or bumping into you.

I sat in the corner on a black leather sofa, isolated from everyone else. Reading my battered _Wuthering Heights_ book with only the soft glow of the neon lights to brighten the words and the quiet blowing of the saxophone played by simple nobodies at the front of the bar. It was idealistic to me. A few Apple Martinis helped soothed me more so. This was another one of my routines which I liked to keep to. Some nights after work, I came here for a few hours and delved into my reading, endlessly wishing that one day I'd be able to write novels such as these. Sometimes I even wished to be the character's within some of the books I read. They're lives seemed so sort out and planned for them. I wish I was able to skip a few chapters whenever I encountered a time in my life that wasn't pleasant.

"Another drink, Miss Rivera?" The waiter asked once approaching the couch I was sitting on. I was a regular customer in this bar, so it was no surprise that he already knew my name. I glimpsed at my watch and suddenly realised the time. I'd become so involved in my book that I hadn't realised how many hours had flown by and how I was yet to write the assignment given by my boss.

I quickly shout up and shoved my book into my bag. "No, thank you. I have to get going," I blurted out hurriedly. He nodded understandingly and wondered off.

The streets of Gotham were still bustling at 21:07, just how I liked them. I loved crowds. I have cenophobia so empty spaces scare me. People say that they like being alone because then no-one can hurt you. But when you're alone are you ever actually, truly alone? Being alone is just a setup into getting hurt. The empty spaces lull you into thinking that you're totally alone, but you're not. When more people around you, you're less likely to get attacked because it's unlikely that a horde of people are going to attack you all at once. There has to be at least one person on the street who's willing to do good to help someone if they are being attacked.

By the time I had entered the apartment, Bruce was waiting in the living room. That's a surprise. I'd have thought he'd be out. "Where have you been?" Bruce asked once noticing my appearance.

"I went to Razzmatazz after work. Sorry I'm so late home," I apologised as I slipped my shoes off. "The boss has been a complete jerk. He didn't like what I wrote today, so I've got to write another one right now before tomorrow morning. If I don't I'll probably be fired."

"Babe, why don't you just quit? You clearly don't like your job and we have more than enough money to be able to survive without it," Bruce suggested as his arms snaked around my back.

"Because Bruce, I don't want to end up like my mother. I don't want to be known as just a trophy wife who hasn't done anything with her life other than marry a billionaire. I've seen what my mother acts like and I don't like it one bit. She thrives off compliments and bathes in cash that isn't rightfully hers. She hasn't done anything to deserve it. My dad would turn in his grave to know how fast she remarried after he died. And also he wouldn't be very happy to know that I wasn't told about it until after I finished boarding school. And if I ever do decide to go back to writing novels, I just continue being a failed author. I don't want that reputation either," I argued.

"You're not a failed author."

"Have you even read one of my books?"

"Not exactly," he admitted sheepishly.

"Exactly; so you wouldn't know. Anyway, let's stop this childish bickering. I've got work to do and I'm pretty sure you'll be disappearing anytime now. Where is it that you go every night? Or is that a stupid question? I'm assuming it's work...again," I sighed as I switched on the computer.

Bruce must have seen this question as a rhetorical one because he didn't reply and completely changed the subject. "I'll be in bed, Delilah. Don't stress too much on this article," he warned before turning my head and kissing me on the lips. Then he continued towards the bedroom.

I was alone again and my mind was already completely frazzled. What the hell was I going to write about? I couldn't think of any other suggestions other than The Joker and the minute ideas that did pop into my head only ended up being associated with him. I hadn't even met this guy and already he was driving me crazy. I swivelled around in my chair when I heard someone leaving the apartment. It was Alfred.

"Alfred?" I called out, just as he was about to leave. Once I had his attention I continued. "Do you know anything about The Joker?" I asked.

"What would you like to know, Miss Rivera?" He asked as he meandered over to me.

"I'm not really sure. I'm supposed to be writing an article and right now, all I can think of writing about is The Joker. Unfortunately I know nothing of him. I thought that maybe a firsthand interview with someone who's experienced more of him would be a worthy article."

"Well, Miss, there really isn't a lot to say about him other than the fact that he's an evil dictator and won't change for anyone. His motives to do what he does aren't exactly clear. He definitely doesn't do it for the money and the most obvious reason is that he simply finds sick entertainment out of his actions. He just wants to watch the world burn."

Well, that didn't help at all. Where do I expand from that? I couldn't predict what The Joker had planned if this mad man had no motives. What do you write about a man who's completely unpredictable? "Thanks, Alfred," I praised and turned back to the computer. He smiled at me before leaving.

My fingers mindlessly drummed against the keyboard as I waited for some sort of inspiration to hit me. I glanced at the clock on the computer; 00:03. Tomorrow morning's going to be painful when I get up. I had been sitting here for hours now and still, I hadn't written one word. I wasn't even procrastinating either; my mind was fully focused on this set task. The thought of my boss nagging and the lifestyle of my mum kept me motivated. But motivation wasn't enough to help me think of a story.

As hours passed by, I constantly slipped into desperation. Anything would suffice. I knew it was a bad thing to do, but I even debated whether or not I should just make the whole thing up. What if I bend the truth slightly? Who would it harm if I wrote just a little half-truth? No-one would know. At this point, it sounded like a great idea. My mind was exhausted and I was desperate. Those two together was the final push into making me write about something that was completely untrue.

Once I began writing, I couldn't stop. I just kept typing and typing and typing until I heard someone walking around. Bruce appeared in the room looking half asleep and half dressed. "What are you still doing up? Haven't you finished?" He questioned groggily as he wandered over to me.

"Bruce, promise you won't tell."

"Tell what?"

"I'm going to do something very bad and I'd like you to stick by me. I'm going to lie. If this goes wrong it could cost me my job. I'm going to lie about having an encounter with The Joker," I confessed.

"What do you mean; this will cost you your job? This could cost you your life! Do you have any idea on who you're messing with here? The Joker is not a man to be messed with, Delilah! I don't want you doing this," he lectured as he read the word document briefly. His eyebrows had knitted together in disapproval but at these early hours in the morning, I couldn't show sympathy for him. I had no will to be able to delete all of the work now and whether he approved or not, I was going to hand this article in. It wasn't as if I hadn't lied before for reasons worse than this. Much, much worse.

"Please, Bruce! You've got to look at this from my perspective. Just say you won't grass me up if this article is printed," I begged. "It's the least you can do in return for leaving me at the altar."

"Are you going to use that against me for the rest of my life, huh?" He snapped. After a moment to think, he continued. "Look, I'm going to play along with your little story. But I hope you know you're going to have to deal with the guilt of lying to every citizen in Gotham and then I'm going to feel guilty if something bad happens to you. This is a terrible, terrible idea," he sighed still not 100% sure if he should let me get away with this or not.

I smiled at my win and began printing the story out. The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could go to bed and enjoy the minimal hours I had left to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_**Regret is insight that comes a day too late.**_

_**~Northrop Frye~**_

I'd only stepped foot into my work building for five minutes and already I felt as if I was being watched by every single employee. The paranoia was getting to me with just the thought of handing this one article in. Last night's sleep managed to contaminate my head with sickening doubt. It was too late to turn back now – wasn't it? I had gotten this far, there was no point of turning back. But Bruce's words kept lingering in my mind and proving me wrong.

I knocked on the door to my boss' office and heard a faint 'come in' on the other side. He was sitting there, with his usual cornflower blue shirt on and a black coffee perched on his desk as he read over people's stories. As I made my way closer to him, I assured myself that this had to look convincing. If I was going to get away with this faux tragedy then I had to make it look believable.

"I have my article, Mr Banks," I stated with deliberate uneasiness. Shakily, I handed him the paper and sniffled.

"Oh good! I'll read it now," he told me, clearly not detecting any signs of me being upset. All my acting gone to waste. As he read on, I noticed his expression become more worried and the lines on his forehead became more visible. After reading it, his eyes slowly made their way up to mine with utter sympathy. Mine were full of crocodile tears and mock hurt. I don't mean to gloat, but to be a good actor; you have to be a good liar. And in my eyes, I am and exceedingly good liar. All my life, I've lied and done it well.

"Is this true, Delilah? He cornered you and circled you like a predator stalking his prey?" He quoted from the article. My lips formed a thin line as I squeezed my eyes closed and nodded.

"It's all true," I replied as tear slipped down my cheek. Oh, real tears. I'd like to thank the academy – why didn't I think of becoming an actress? "It was so horrible. Extremely brief, but emotionally scarring nevertheless."

"This is so odd. Any encounter with The Joker is a death sentence, so the fact that he freed you is nothing short of a miracle. Are you sure you want this printed?" Tyler asked as he stood up from his chair and read the article for the second time. This was the most considerate I'd seen my boss ever since I started working here. I'd have thought Tyler would have jumped at the chance to print a story this extreme.

"Of course. People need to be warned about how dangerous Gotham is once again. I don't want people making the same mistake I did last night. People should know that there really is safety in numbers."

Tyler walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. My eyes widened in shock, but I soon realised that I was supposed to be upset, so I began crying into his shirt hysterically. "You have my deepest condolences. Have you told the police? Have you told anyone for that matter – other than me?"

"Bruce knows. I don't want to tell the police. Imagine all the questioning. I don't think I could deal with that stress right now. But there bound to find out as soon as this article is printed. Besides, what could the cops do to help me? They still won't be able to find him," I explained.

"I still recommend you tell them, Delilah," he suggested as he released me from the hug.

"I'll let them come to me first. Then I'll talk to them."

"Just as long as you talk to them. I give you permission to take the rest of the day off. Stay at home till you're perfectly fit and well to come back to work," he ordered. "This amazingly written article will be printed as soon as possible and will be in tomorrow's paper."

"Thank you, Mr Banks," I hushed before leaving his office. As soon as I closed the door I couldn't ignore the feeling that I had just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I hadn't taken the chance to think about the serious consequences of my actions and now it was too late to do anything about it. The sudden realisation of people's eyes upon me as they questioned my tear stained face made feel even more regretful. Hurriedly, I rushed out of viewing distance of all those pressurising eyes.

When word gets out about my story, I couldn't begin to imagine how many people would be hounding me to ask about my encounter with The Joker. My mother, the press, the cops. No doubt all the press and the cops will be more concerned about The Joker rather than my own wellbeing. My mother on the other hand could only show concern over me – hopefully. Unwanted concern, however. It could only be a non-stop rain of condolences and nurturing and lecturing that I had no reason to have rightfully. But I couldn't admit to her that I lied to everyone. She'd lecture me even more and it would kill her to know that I'd made up such obscenities just to struggle to keep my job.

I managed to make it back to my apartment without collapsing under the powerfulness of stranger's gazes. It felt as if everyone was moving in slow motion and I was the only one who didn't have a motion blur. I stood out above all the blurry people and I happened to have the words 'LIAR' written in big, black lettering all over my face. It was almost as bad as a dream where you're the only person naked. These random strangers who I'm probably not going to ever meet again managed to have this effect on me and they couldn't have possibly known about my article yet. It hadn't been printed. Regret was the monster that made everyone seem this way.

Alfred was already in the apartment, but Bruce wasn't. I wondered if Bruce had already told him about the absurd lie or if I was going to have to deal with the awkwardness of explaining. "Miss Rivera, what are you doing home at this hour?" Alfred asked concerned. "Please, don't tell me that you actually handed in those lies."

So he had been told. "I'm sorry," I apologised in reply. "If it's any consolation, I now realise my faults. I see that this was a very bad thing to do and I am deeply regretful. Oh my God, Alfred! What have I done! What am I going to do?" I screamed. The pressure had made me hysterical. I was acting this way because I could see no other way for me to act.

"Well, Miss, there's nothing else we can do. You've gotten yourself into this mess and you're going to have to get yourself out of it. You were warned and you still did your deed with the devil. Do you believe in karma – or tit for tat, Miss Rivera? You've lied and you will receive your inevitable karmic retribution."

Alfred's words hit me harder than a ton of bricks. He said everything without trying to sound pitiless and without intending to scare me. But it was the realisation of how true his words were that scared me most.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_**Fear is the tax that conscience pays to guilt.**_

_**~George Sewell~**_

Next morning was chaos. Hordes of people were constantly trying to make their way up to mine and Bruce's apartment. The phone was constantly ringing. My mom was consistently calling and texting to my mobile for me to let her into the apartment. Bruce was out of the apartment, but I'm almost certain that he had a hard time leaving because of the crowds in the lobby. I specifically called the receptionist telling her not to let anyone up. I wasn't sure if she knew about my current position or not, but either way she obeyed my orders.

My cell was ringing for what had to be the fiftieth time this morning. And of course, it was none other than my mother. I answered, just like I had answered her every other call. I'd feel even more guilty if I was to ignore her.

"Mom! I've already told you! I can't let you up yet," I exclaimed after I had answered the phone.

"_Delilah, I am your mother. You can't treat me this way! I can't stand being away from my daughter this long knowing she's been ill-treated!_" Ill-treated. Pfft. She has no idea. She wasn't saying anything like this when she left me in that horrible boarding school. "_I need to see if you're okay, right now! Please, just let me in! I assure you the crowds are dying down now._"

"I don't want you to get hounded by press too. If they knew I let you in, you'll constantly have people on your back about my incident. Please – just come back later."

"_What do you mean, later? Later isn't going to be any different than now! There's still going be the same amount of people lingering at your door,_" my mother argued. She was right, but I was just too proud to admit it, but also ashamed of my own horrible mess I'd gotten myself into.

"Fine," I sighed into the phone. "I'll call the receptionist to let you up. But whatever you do, don't let anyone else up with you. I just can't take it at the moment."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll be right up."

She stuck by her word to be right up, but as for letting no-one else up with her; she failed. "Mom! You've brought the whole police squad with you...and Geoff! No offence, Geoff," I added in quickly.

"None taken."

"I specifically asked you not to bring anyone else up!" I whined as I collapsed into the sofa. I rested my forehead in my hands and my elbows against my knees.

"What did you expect me to do? Turn down a cop?"

"Miss Rivera, we just want a few moments of your time," one cop asked. "I'm Commissioner Gordon and I am already familiar with the works of The Joker."

"Then why are you here? I can't help you. What can I tell you that you don't already know? Word for word, that article that was written in today's paper is exactly what happened. No more, no less. There literally isn't anything else I can add to it. What do you want to know? Because every question you ask has probably already been answered in that article or it is a question that I am unable to answer."

"Yes, but we see no real reason for why The Joker did what he did. Was there no motive for him to do what he did? The Joker hasn't been known for his random attacks on young women in deserted alleyways. There has to be a motive somewhere. Has anything abnormal happened to you recently? Could you have possibly gotten onto someone's bad side? What did The Joker say to you? You only mentioned that he was a man of few words."

"Um...he mentioned something about his smile. He told me that I shouldn't be wandering the streets alone. The streets are no longer safe and he wants all of Gotham to know it. Maybe the attack was to prove this to Gotham? I don't know. Maybe I was just a warning. Maybe it was a mistake attack. It's all very vague to me; it happened so fast." I mentally applauded my quick thinking and my continuous good acting. "Now, I've told you everything. There isn't anything left to say. Please...just leave."

"Is this man dangerous?" My mother blurted out. She clearly wasn't familiar with The Joker just as much as I was when I first heard of him.

"Don't be alarmed, Mrs Rivera-"

"It's Mrs Howard actually." I rolled my eyes at my mother's inappropriateness.

"Okay, Mrs Howard, your daughter has come in contact with potentially one of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham. Hopefully- "

"Oh, my God! What's going to happen?" My mother screamed.

"Mom!" I snapped, now completely irritable with her immature interruptions. "Please! Just shut up for a second. Continue, Commissioner."

"As I was saying, hopefully if his assumed motive is correct, then your daughter may not have to encounter this man again. So far it seems like your daughter doesn't hold a specific role in The Joker's plan other than to scare people. We'll do what we can to ensure that Delilah Rivera is safe. Thank you for your time, Miss Rivera. We'll be sure to call if there's anything worth telling you. Goodbye."

All this unwanted attention. The cops were all fixated on my story when they could have been doing something that was actually useful. All I was doing was giving them false leads. These false leads were giving The Joker an undeserved head start to destroying Gotham whilst it was at its underbelly. If anything I should have the Karma police at my hands.

The cops dispersed from the apartment, but my mother and Geoff stayed. As soon as the police were out of eyeshot, my mother wrapped me into a sideways hug on the couch. Geoff merely stood back not knowing what to say or how to act in a situation like this.

"Delilah, I think you should stay over at mine and Geoff's tonight. I don't want to be away from you knowing that your life might be in danger. Just one night is all I ask."

"No, mother. Bruce looks after me just fine. There's no need for me to be an intrusion in you two's house. Alfred's always here too, so I'm not alone. Stay here for as long as you want, but I'm not leaving this apartment for as long as the press are standing outside. I'm going to become a recluse, but admittedly I'm going to have to leave the apartment some time. Just not too soon. Do me a favour, mother? Ignore the press when you leave. Don't say a word to them. They have no right to intrude on my privacy. I've said my part in that article and that's all I'll say."

"I understand. Well, I'm going to take up your offer and stay here a little longer. Just so you have some company other than just Alfred. You're in a time of your life where you need to be nurtured and that's just what I'm going to do," she pointed out.

Without any requests, Alfred came out of the kitchen area holding a tray of what looked like tea and/or coffee. "I thought you'd all need a drink." I made sure not to make eye contact with Alfred, lest I may be taken on a guilt trip again.

Bruce entered the apartment around four o'clock. My mother and Geoff were still here at this time. His vexed expression was enough to say that he'd just been hassled by a mob of press. "Bruce, are you okay?" I asked immediately, shooting up from the sofa.

"Just fine. The paparazzi are relentless," he replied sounding stressed. I'm sure it was the fact that I'd continued with this charade that annoyed him more than the paparazzi. Was he just as bad of a person as I was for not exposing me? I saw it as love that stood in the way of him wanting to hand me in. Bruce placed a kiss below my ear and whispered, "How long are they going to be staying here?" Evidently he was referring to my mother and stepfather.

"I don't know. They've been here all day and won't leave," I whispered back trying to sound as respectful as possible. Which was hard considering that they both showed no intentions of leaving soon. I was certain that Bruce would want a word with me as soon as they're gone, considering he was still pissed with me for handing in the article.

I wasn't sure if they had heard me or not, or if it was just coincidence, but both Geoff and my mother stood up. "Well, I think we've overstayed our welcome. We best be going now. But don't think I won't be checking up on you to see if you're okay. Goodbye, sweetheart. Goodbye, Bruce," my mother smiled before leaving the apartment.

"Goodbye, Eve. Goodbye, Geoff," Bruce said for the both of us. As soon as they were both gone, Bruce turned back to me. "So have the police been yet?"

"Commissioner Gordon and few other officers came to question me. I just told them exactly what I said in that article."

"How long are you planning on keeping this up?" Bruce asked with a sigh.

"As long as it has too. I've already told you how regretful I am for what I've done and I'm sorry."

"Sorry still doesn't make you safe. I'm worried, Delilah. I'm worried for you. If anything happens to you, I don't know what I'd do," he admitted. "I don't meant to change the subject, but a fundraiser is being held for Wayne Enterprises. It's a masquerade ball and we're both invited."

"Oh, great and I guess I'm invited just as your arm candy?"

"Don't be like that. It's the least you can do for promising not to expose you."

"I think we're going to be stuck in this vicious chain of bribery for the rest of our lives, Bruce."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_**Perfect paranoia is perfect awareness.**_

_**~Philo Grant~**_

The next morning I was woken with a phone call. The possibilities were endless. This could have been anyone ringing. The caller ID read withheld, so I assumed this wasn't my mother. I was surprised. I'd have thought she'd actually be over at the apartment by now to check up on me. I picked up the phone not really certain who might be on the other end.

"Hello?"

"_Miss Rivera? This is Commissioner Gordon calling. I talked to you yesterday about your encounter with The Joker,_" he clarified.

"Yes – is there a problem?" I questioned as I bit my bottom lip. I was big bag of nerves ever since I'd confessed to 'bumping into The Joker' and I felt as if at any moment someone was going to catch me out somehow.

"_GCPD believe that you were just a decoy. Are you aware that while we were interrogating you, The Joker managed to obliterate the Harvey Dent memorial portrait at Gotham City Hall?_"

There was silence on my part. The guilt I was feeling couldn't have been anymore palpable. "- I was not aware of that."

"_He managed to get away with no hassle after all the damage. There was other damage caused rather than just the portrait. It's safe to say that this was an easy task for him because you played as the distraction. I felt as if it were my duty to inform you of this event and I feel as if The Joker has no real business with you anymore, so you should be safe._" Wrong. He was so wrong. I wasn't a decoy at all. I was dirty little liar. I kept silent on the other end of the phone, mainly because I was to self-involved with what I had done to speak back. He said I was safe...are those the famous last words? I hadn't felt this unsafe ever since I started boarding school.

"_That is all Miss Rivera. I'll let you get on with whatever business you need to attend to._" With that, the commissioner hung up without waiting for a goodbye from me. I'd like to say that the worst part was over – which is the questioning I'm referring to – but was that actually the worst part in the end? I seemed to be forgetting one major and seemingly blatant problem. The Joker. I wasn't sure if he read the papers or not, but I was pretty sure that he'd find out some way or another about my lie...then what happens?

Locking myself in the apartment wasn't going to help my already stir crazy mind. I needed out. Maybe I could go to work or something. Maybe writing a decent article might take my mind off all the guilt and regret I felt. I quickly dressed and mentally braced myself for the inevitable, unwanted attention on the outside world.

Bruce didn't know I was leaving the house today. He told me become a recluse for a while, until he was almost absolutely certain I was safe again. He was extremely protective over me and he felt as if something was to happen to me, he'd be all to blame. I'd assured that nothing would be his fault; it'd be mine for being so stupid, but he wouldn't have any of it.

When I was out of sight of random strangers outside of my work building, the gaze became even more pressurising when I entered. My colleagues, whom I actually knew, were all staring at me with sympathising expressions on their faces, totally oblivious to my deceit. I had a feeling at least one of them would come up to ask questions.

I looked down – away from all my colleagues. I sat at my computer, but before I could switch it on, my boss snuck up behind me. "Delilah," he started, startling me slightly. "I apologise. I should have known you might be jumpy at a time like this. I came over to ask about why you came in today. Didn't I tell you to stay at home for a while, to get over what happened?"

"Yeah, I know, but- "

"Before you make any protests, I highly recommend you go home. Please, you've already done enough here," he argued. "If you really want to do some work, you can work at home if you like. Just please go home. I know you don't want to sit here in the questioning eyes of all your colleagues."

"Maybe you're right," I sighed as I stood up from the computer chair.

"There's a good girl."

I didn't want to go home. The whole reason of me coming out of the house was to get away from that place. I went to my last resort; Razzmatazz. It was early, but the same amount of people were in the club as there was at night. I sat down in the same leather sofa in the corner and ordered the same little drink I ordered every time I came here. I pulled out _Wuthering Heights_ from my bag and sank my teeth into another chapter.

It was around six o'clock when I asked for my fifth Apple Martini. I had to walk up to the bar because the bartender was already busy this time. As I waited for the bartender finishing someone else's order, I realised that a man beside me was noticeably glaring at me. I peered at him through the corner of my eye, trying to get a better look at him. I'd never seen him in the bar before – or anywhere for that matter. His dark hair was longer on one side than the other and he had a fringe swept to the long side. Undeniably, there was something about him which was attractive. Possibly the icy blue eyes. However, you couldn't ignore the dark aura that seemed to reverberate off him. His lips were cracked and frosted with dry skin and the skin on his hands and around his finger nails looked broken and rough and around the eyes were dark circles.

"Hey, can I have another Apple Martini, please?" I asked as the bartender made his way over to me.

"This one's on the house," he stated after handing me the drink. The empathy in his voice implied that he knew about what had 'happened' – just like everyone else knew in Gotham. Feeling even more guilty, I took the drink without paying. I had almost forgotten about that strange man sitting at the bar (I say 'man' when in reality, he looked far too young) and I looked up at him as I sat down on the sofa. Like I'd expected he was still staring at me, taking a long sip of whatever it was he was drinking and glared at me through hooded eyes. I delved back into my book, attempting to ignore the stranger, but at this point I was too distracted. This person was completely ruining the atmosphere of this building for me, which I tended to love. His queer intrusion of my privacy made it impossible for me to relax. I quickly downed the rest of my Apple Martini and stood up from sofa about to make a dash out of that building. It was getting late anyway.

Even when I had left the building, I still had this unnerving feeling that a presence was still following me. I turned around briefly to realise that that same person was still looking at me, this time he was following me down the streets of Gotham. I gasped silently in shock at the realisation. Now that he was standing up, I could clearly tell that his fashion sense matched his damaged physical appearance. His skinny jeans were tattered and ripped and hung loosely from his stick like frame. His hands were tucked into his black, leather jacket which was also tattered. The step in his walk was at odds. It was deliberately slow, but each step seemed unequal in length.

This guy...he was skinny and twisted and evil like this mangy cat I used to have when I was a child. I loved this cat though. His name was Charcoal and I took him in after it was abused by its previous owner. The poor thing was badly beaten and had hair missing in random places. The cat died not long after my father did. Then I was sent to boarding school and for some reason, I knew straight away that something bad was going to happen.

The resemblance between this man and my cat sent the exact same feeling of fear through me that I felt the day I started the school. Something was coming. Something bad was going to happen.

Eventually, I made it into my apartment unharmed and unmolested. Bruce was there, brandishing a creamy coloured piece of card towards me. I took it, confused, and glimpsed down at it. It was the invitation to the masquerade ball he had been mentioning. The gold lettering on the card simply stated;

_You are cordially invited to Wayne Enterprises Masquerade Ball._

And that was it. The Wayne Enterprises logo was printed below it, but that was all. Short and sweet, I guess.

"Oh, thank you," I sighed half-heartedly.

"You'll enjoy it, I promise," Bruce chuckled after hearing my unenthusiastic tone.

"Sure I will," I stated sarcastically as I rolled my eyes. "What am I going to wear anyway?" I asked as I stormed off towards the bedroom with the walk-in wardrobe. I took a step inside and glanced at all of the dresses I had. "None of these suit a masquerade ball."

"Are you kidding? What about this one?" He questioned as he felt the material of a white dress.

"Bruce!" I exclaimed angrily. "That's my wedding dress! Shows how much you pay attention to me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologised. "How about you go out tomorrow and get a new dress and a nice mask for the ball? Sound good?"

I nodded my head, but something dawned upon me. What if that man was still following me? What if he followed me tomorrow? What was he following me for? Was he even following me or was paranoia the main culprit?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**Half of life is fucking up – the other half is dealing with it.**_

_**~Henry Rollins~**_

The next day, I and Bruce had set out to buy me a new dress. I had no particular dress design in mind, but Bruce was insisting I get a red one seeing as he always thought I looked most fitting in that colour. The red held the right amount of sophistication while still maintaining its natural sensuality as it complimented my supple curves – Bruce's words, not mine. As per usual, Bruce also happily insisted on buying the dress for me. And I didn't even have to nag him to wait with me while I tried on dresses. I told him to give me his honest opinions when I modelled every dress, but not once did I hear him give a negative review. I'm not sure if it was because he merely didn't care or if every dress did look stunning – preferably the latter – either way my opinion would overpower his anyway. With a minute case of OCD, I nitpicked at any hardly noticeable faults in a dress. Too low cut, too short, too long, too red, too slutty...there was always something wrong with the dress.

Eventually, after traipsing around many suggested shops of Bruce's, I found the idealistic dress. Admittedly, the dress had the majority of my back showing, but the back is never the aspect I am concerned about. It's when the dress is too low cut when I become paranoid about being too trashy. The dress was a soft, red silk with thin spaghetti straps which crossed over at the back. The rest of the back was exposed, but the rest of my body was fairly covered. The material only just touched the floor but a slit ran up one side of the dress, sometimes exposing my left leg.

Although the shopping trip was problem free, something had spooked me when I and Bruce had left the apartment blocks. Literally not even five minutes out of the building, I spotted that same guy from yesterday walking my way. Obviously, I assumed the worst; I thought he was aiming straight for me so evidently my grip tightened around Bruce's hand. Originally, Bruce hadn't even noticed the sudden pressure; however, he did when the stranger rudely and harshly bumped into my shoulder with his. I was knocked back slightly with a faint grunt of pain as I simply glared at the man. Bruce's protective instinct kick-started instantly after and I remember him shouting something at the rude pedestrian, but I don't recall exactly what he said. It was nothing too profane or malevolent, I was sure of that. Bruce's hand moved from mine and snaked around my waist after the sudden collision. Normally, that brief encounter with the stranger would have affected my entire day negatively, but being with Bruce made me feel safer and distracted me from the minor predicament.

Currently, both I and Bruce were walking back to the penthouse. It was late afternoon and I'd planned on getting ready for the party as soon as I'd entered the penthouse. When I had left the building earlier on this morning, the young receptionist was as normal. Relaxed with her easy smile and polite farewell gestures, the casual nod as she bid us a wholesome goodbye; however, the sharp jerk of her head as she stared at us entering the building forced me to notice how much her normality had been sullied. Her casual smile looked like it was being forced against her will and her eyes clearly gave me the impression that she was in distress. She seemed stiff and her minor movements looked rigid even more so. I was a fair distance away from her but it appeared as if she was shaking slightly. Something had her spooked and I was almost certain that Bruce noticed her odd change in posture too.

The sudden change was far too different to not be interested in what had caused it. "Are you okay?" I asked simply. All the time I had been staying with Bruce, I hadn't bothered to learn her name.

I heard a feeble 'mhmm' escape her lips which had formed a thin line. Her nod was frantic and too quick to seem as if she was okay. I figured that whatever was troubling her was her business only and left the brief conversation at that. Bruce and I continued hand in hand towards the elevator to our penthouse.

Many hours later, I was completely ready but was less than satisfied with my appearance. Something was very off putting about my attire, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I had left my blonde tresses down in natural curls instead of straightening it or tying it back like I usually did. I didn't handle change well so my unfamiliar hairstyle was most likely what was putting me off. I inherited natural tanned skin from my Spanish father so there was no need for false tan or unnatural-looking foundation. A clear gloss coated my lips sufficiently and dark eye make-up was thinly lined around my eyes. The dress fit perfectly, but I kept thinking that my black heels were going to tear the bottom of it.

"Bruce, tell the truth; do I look okay to you?" I asked after facing away from the mirror. He was currently trying to fix his tie, but he stopped momentarily to look up at me. Instantly, he released his tie and his eyes widened as well as his mouth. He took slow steps towards me and his awestruck expression made me smile slightly. He didn't even have to answer to make me feel happy.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he pulled me closer. "You look stunning," he whispered into my ear before placing a long and gentle kiss below it. I felt myself blush at the gesture. I'd known Bruce for a couple of years now and he still managed to make me feel giddy and weightless without fail. There was no need to say anything back. It was a comfortable silence. We both simply gazed at each other with adoration and loving smiles. Bruce always knew the right things to say. His words always managed to make me feel content and at ease. If I was to ever lose him, I don't know what I'd do. I depended on him more than I depended on my own mother. I didn't have to tell him this for him to know and I'm almost certain he felt the same way about me. "Are you ready to go?" Bruce asked, still not releasing me from his grip.

I merely nodded as I gently clasped his tie and helped fasten it properly. I leaned in and pressed my lips against his before smiling softly and spinning around to leave. Before I could leave, however, I had to find my invitation. I thought I'd left it on the coffee table, but it seemed to have disappeared when I went to find it. I checked under cushions, I checked under magazines, I checked in my clutch bag thinking I may have already put it in there, but it was to no avail. I could not find the invitation. I began to panic as my mind thought up absurd possibilities of where it might be. Frantically, I paced the penthouse indefinitely searching for the little piece of card which will allow me into the party. But seeing as it was so small and the penthouse was so large, it seemed near enough impossible at this point to find it.

Bruce walked out of the bedroom and immediately noticed how rushed and uneasy I looked. He was instantly by my side trying to calm me down with worry in his eyes. "Delilah, what's the matter?" Bruce asked as he placed his hands on either side of my face.

"I can't find it! I can't find my invitation anywhere. I've looked all over the place and it's not where I left it. Have you moved it by any chance – or Alfred, maybe? I can't go if I don't find it!" I exclaimed as I ran a hand through my hair.

"Delilah...you're forgetting one very important thing; I am Bruce Wayne. Owner of Wayne Enterprises. Don't you think I should be able to decide who's allowed into the party, with or without an invitation?"

"Oh yeah," I sighed feeling very relieved all of a sudden. Although the case of my missing invitation still a mystery, I felt reassured. Surely the invitation couldn't have gone far. Alfred most likely misplaced it or something. Bruce handed me my masquerade mask which I was being forced to wear as ridiculous as it may sound. It was all in good fun, I suppose, so I didn't refuse to put the black mask on. Bruce also had a similar black mask, except his was plain and mine had decorations and patterns covering it.

The receptionist was no longer at the reception desk when we came out of the elevator. I was a little curious at her disappearance but I didn't ponder on the thought for too long.

Normally, Bruce would have liked to be fashionably late to even his own parties. This time, however, we were relatively early, yet a fair amount of guests was already there before us. Already people had formed groups and had begun to converse with one another. The conversations consisted of what I can only assume was nonstop gloating and faux interest in one another, while in reality the ones not talking were only waiting for their chance to speak. I already felt out of place. I knew I wasn't going to enjoy the night. Bruce would probably wander off and entertain other party guests, sometimes taking me with him just to flaunt me probably and to make it seem like I wasn't being left out. It was hard to believe that Bruce even remotely associated himself with these people.

Not even five minutes in the building and already I had noticed some of the guest's heads turn to look at me. There face would be full of sympathy and for a second I almost forgot what they were sympathising for. I would have to continue this charade of false allegations all night. I had become weary of this article and all its consequences. I knew for certain I'd be top talked about party topics this evening. It was clear that Bruce noticed my uneasiness when he gave my hand a quick squeeze. My head turned around to look at him and he smiled at me with a wink. "Don't worry. Tonight's going to be fine. None of these people are going to eat you, so you should just relax." I smiled and nodded, not fully believing him.

"Mr Wayne, it's nice to see you showed up to your party on time," I heard a voice ask smoothly from behind. Both I and Bruce spun around in unison. A man with a black and red mask was making his way over to us with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Ah, Lucius. It's nice to see you too. Delilah, have you met Lucius?" Bruce asked as he motioned towards this new acquaintance.

"I don't recall," I replied as I reached out my hand to shake his.

"I'm Lucius Fox. I help Mr Wayne in running Wayne Enterprises. You must be Delilah Wayne. Bruce has told me all about you."

I laughed awkwardly at the comment and cleared my throat before retorting, "Obviously not everything. We're not yet married. At the moment, I am only Delilah Rivera." I stared at Bruce becoming a little irritant at the memory of being left at the altar.

"I see. Well, I won't keep you any longer. I'll let you mingle with the other guests and indulge in some of the refreshments," Lucius announced before smiling and walking away. Bruce took hold of my hand once again and he led me to a table extravagantly laid out with garnishing and luxurious spreads fit for a king. Bruce released my hand momentarily to take hold of two glasses of champagne.

"Trying to get me drunk already, Bruce?" I asked jokingly as I happily obliged to take one of them.

"It's merely liquid confidence, Delilah," Bruce joked back before taking a sip of his champagne. "You'll enjoy it as soon as you loosen up a little."

I took a glance around large room full of people who I was supposedly going to enjoy the company of. "Are you kidding?" I asked. "These people have the personalities of a wet mop."

After a moment of debating this in his head, he agreed with me. "You're right. Which is all the more reason to take advantage of the alcohol while you can."

"Incoming," I sighed, when I noticed a group of socialites advancing towards us. I quickly downed the rest of my champagne and grabbed another glass. I was going to need it.

"Mr Wayne! What a lovely decorated masquerade ball you're currently hosting! I applaud your hard work!" The female leader of the pack exclaimed excitedly. Her peroxide blonde hair – disguising her greys – was tightly pinned back into a painful looking bun. Her expressionless face had clearly gone through Botox injections recently and she wore a dress which sincerely did her no justice with her sagging cleavage. Mutton dressed as lamb would be an easier way to describe her. Once noticing that I was almost attached to Bruce's side, she smiled at me preparing to give her condolences. "Miss Rivera. I also have to applaud you on your beautifully written article recently as tragic as the incident was. You have my sympathy, my dear."

"Thank you –" I stopped instantly realising I didn't know her name. Frankly, there was no need for me to find out, so I didn't inquire. I swirled and sipped my beverage as I could no longer stay focused on the socialite's tedious conversations with Bruce. I over analysed the rest of the pack behind the mutton dressed as lamb. They were all just as bad as each other. Who were these people? Did Bruce even know them?

From group to group, I became more irritable with each and every person having to tell me how sorry they are for my tragic encounter. I could no longer take it. Even if it was just for a few minutes away from these people, I had to leave. "Bruce, I just need to use the bathroom," I informed him as I released his hand.

"Okay, it's just down the hall through that door. You can't miss it." Bruce returned to his previous conversation soon after. Slowly, I made my way over to the door, deliberately trying to waste time. It was only seven o'clock and already I was bored.

The hallway to the bathroom seemed long and dreary. But with each step down it, the quiet, classical music drowned out and I could only hear my breathing and the clicking of my heels. My pace seemed to speed up the nearer I got to the female bathroom door. It was far too quiet and desolate and my fear of empty spaces began to quicken my heartbeat.

I breathed a heavy sigh when I finally entered the bathroom and the door closed. The room was relatively clean and many cubicles ran along one side of the room. I chose one at random and went inside. To be honest, I don't know which was worse. Being a room full of arrogant people I don't know or being completely alone. I heard my shaky breaths reverberate off the sides of the cubicle and I hadn't realised just how severe my fear of being alone really was. I quickly did my business and flushed the toilet so that I could get back to Bruce and feel safe again. The sound of the flush ended but was replaced with a painfully long creak. The door to the bathroom had opened and closed. My breath caught up in my throat when I heard the sound of slow footsteps scuffing the tiled floor and pausing right outside of my cubicle.

This person couldn't have possibly been waiting for a free cubicle. There were plenty of other unoccupied ones. This person was waiting for me. I knew I shouldn't overreact to something that may not even be as bad as it seemed, but I couldn't help but panic. Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor so that I was crouching and looked under the cubicle door. My mouth gaped open when I realised these were definitely men's shoes. They were brown dress shoes and he wore plain grey pants.

I covered my mouth just in case he could hear how unnerved my breaths had become. I rose slowly as I faced the cubicle door directly. There was no escape from this situation now. I'd have to deal with whoever was on the other side. Gently I placed my fingertips on the door lock. Preparing myself mentally for the unknown, I slid the lock to vacant. Soon after I slowly opened the door. Without a pause in between a tall man in a full white mask pushed me back into the cubicle. My scream for help was cut short when his hand clamped over my mouth. The attacker immediately locked the door again before continuing to wrestle me into submission. I kicked and clawed at him, attempting to grab that faded green, tangled mess of hair on his head. However, my attempts to free myself failed when he gripped both of my wrists and pinned them down on either side of my head. He put both of my wrists in one of his hands above my head while the other went over my mouth again.

My feeble screams transformed into quiet whimpers, even when his hand was away from my mouth. My eyes were wide open but they widened considerably more when he reached for his mask. His hand gripped the whole thing and he slowly pulled it away. I began to tremble as I soaked in his painted features. His dark eyes outlined with messy circles and his vermilion lips extending into an obscured and twisted grin. My lie had caught up with me.

"Evening, Delilah Rivera."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**Say Goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight, Don't you dare look at him in the eye, As we dance with the devil tonight.**_

_**~Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin~**_

His cold eyes penetrated my tear filled ones. The way they panned and speculated my every curve made my knees tremble in fear. This was the kind of look a lion had when it's eagerly about to tear its prey to shreds. I only feared he might do the same to me. There was barely enough space in between us to breathe. I was scared to inhale; in case I breathed in any of his scent. His teeth were at odds. On one hand, they were perfectly aligned and without any gaps – on the other, they were stained drastically and looked as if they hadn't met toothpaste for years. Fortunately for me, he didn't seem to be breathing from him mouth – only his nose. I became more unnerved with every exhale. Somehow, the hot hair escaping his nostrils seemed to cling to my skin and it made me feel claustrophobic. There were blankets of hot hair coating my entire body and it was trapping me into a spider web.

Neither of us had spoken (asides from his uncomforting greeting) and I certainly didn't want to begin speaking. Was I even allowed to speak? Maybe I was under 'don't speak, unless spoken to' regulations. However, I saw no signs of The Joker beginning to speak anytime soon. As much as I didn't want to, I had to speak to break the tension.

"What do you want from me?" I whispered shakily. It was almost inaudible, but judging by the closeness of our bodies, it'd be impossible not to hear a sound that was emitted from me.

His eyebrows lowered, as if he somehow didn't understand the question. Slowly, his eyes rolled upwards as he searched for an answer. Don't be fooled. I describe his actions as if he's unsure of himself and somewhat confused. No; these actions were clearly deliberate because they were so over exaggerated. "I'd have thought it'd be quite, ah, obvious, Delilah Rivera," he replied. "The question should be; what are you gonna do to me?"

More hot hair caressed my face from his taunting words. His voice; so cynical and dark. It was baritone with a husky drawl and could have even been considered arousing if not used in these current circumstances. However, there seemed to be a negative undertone in his voice and he over enunciated a lot of his words. My name in particular seemed to roll of his tongue in slow, torturous drawls.

With one more sudden burst of energy and determination, I began to wrestle him out of his vicelike grip. The fight was short lived as his rough, calloused hands managed to clutch my wrists almost immediately. His whole body was now pressed against mine tightly, so that I couldn't escape. The feel of his breath so close to my neck forced me to let out a loud and feral scream. Instantaneously after, one of his hands was wrapped tightly around my throat. The scream mutated into a choked gasp until the volume eventually decreased to nothing. His thumb pressed down hard onto my throat, disallowing me from speaking, screaming or breathing. I couldn't even beg him to stop. The only way I could remotely signify this was to clasp his wrist and attempt to force it away.

Harshly, he slammed the back of my head into the cubical wall before growling, "Don't try and act like the damsel in distress here. Just remember that you're not so perfect yourself. If I do recall correctly, this seems very familiar to a certain article you wrote not too long ago. Do you remember it, hmm? Of course you do. Now, if you want this to end well, I suggest you do exactly what I say," he ordered slowly. His voice has suddenly taken a nasal, high pitched tone which I hadn't recognised earlier. "I suggest that you keep your pretty, little face shut and stop with the screaming. Otherwise –" he stopped momentarily to pull out a switchblade from his coat pocket. It quickly flicked upwards and the blade glistened eerily in the lights. " – I assure you, you will not like the consequences." He carefully placed the blade at the corner of my lip and released his thumb from my throat shortly after. I immediately inhaled a huge intake of oxygen as I coughed and choked from the lack of it. I made sure not to make any harsh movements in fear of the blade cutting me in the slightest.

"So, tell me, Miss Rivera; does anyone else know about your little lie?" He asked smarmily.

I quickly shook my head from side to side. It was an obvious lie, but I was afraid that the truthful answer may lead to them being in trouble too.

"You know, Delilah, I think you're a dishonest person. And I also think you're, ah, lying to me right now. That's not a very bright idea. Are you lying to me, hmm?"

I repeated the same motion with my head, still too frightened to talk. Quickly, his hand reached around to the back of my head and gripped a fist full of my hair. I couldn't stifle the shriek of pain begging to be released after the sudden jerk of my head. "Shh-shh-shh-shh. Now what did I say about screaming?" He asked as the fingers holding the knife gently slithered down my neck. He placed the blade firmly at my throat and I instantly stopped screaming. I was even scared to gulp.

"How did you find me here?" I asked with trembling lips, finally finding the courage to raise my voice.

"I have my ways," he replied smoothly as the hand gripping the blade moved to his pocket, whilst his other hand still had hold of my hair. Out of his pocket came the small invitation – my invitation.

"How did you get that?"

"Magic! Oh, and you're receptionist disappearing – that was a magic trick too," he added with a twisted, lopsided grin playing at his features.

"What did you do to her?" I stuttered, not even thoroughly sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"A true magician never explains his tricks," he averted cleverly. "But I can assure you, if you really want to know, I'd be happy to demonstrate how I did it. You could be the volunteer...my glamorous assistant."

I shook my head frantically. It didn't take a genius to know that the 'magic trick' wouldn't end nicely. The lopsided grin transformed into a toothy one as he quietly chuckled through his teeth. His laugh was sinister with cruel intentions; laughing at my discomfort and disposition. The malevolence in his mocking laugh was unnerving and I wanted nothing more than to get away. My lower lip quivered uncontrollably and I pathetically began to snivel. I lowered my head to escape his gaze and also to hide the inevitable tears. Firmly he pinched either side of my face and forced my head back up to look at him in one swift motion. The abruptness of the action caught me off guard and I ended up knocking my head on the cubical wall again. "Please!" I cried. "Just let me go. What do you want me to do? I'll do anything. Here; do you want money?" In a panicked rush, I quickly opened my clutch bag and reached for my purse. Before I had a chance to retrieve it, he gripped the clutch bag and snatched it away from me viciously. After flinging it aside, he grabbed either side of my face – his right hand still clutching the switchblade tightly.

"I have no use for your money! Did you really think that money would be the answer to all your problems? – No. No, I'm not one for bribery. I prefer the more...vengeful approach. It always proves to be most effective and is the most intelligent method, rather than becoming just another thug who'd resort to the money option. I'd like to see myself as a higher class of criminal. I must admit; my approach is much more fun – seeing the fear rise in the eyes of those who deserve it. Like you, hmm. I want you to do me a favour. I want you to let all of Gotham know the truth about your little, ah, story. I don't want you telling anyone about this little encounter and I don't want any cops getting involved. Hmm?"

"I can't do that," I refused as I shook my head. I did hesitate, admittedly. I was afraid that he'd lash out at the refusal, so I tried not to sound so confident or cocky, for lack of a better word. In all honesty, I didn't have the guts to stand up for myself. It would have been a lost cause anyway.

"Why is that?"

"Because I'll lose my job...my reputation. Any respect I once had. It'll ruin everything for me."

"Well, it's either that or you lose your life, toots. Now which will it be? Your job or your life, hmm? Come on, come on. We haven't got all night. I need an answer," He pestered as he slapped my cheek mockingly. A stray tear rolled from underneath my mask and along my cheek. The droplet ran over his finger but he didn't seem to care or notice.

"Fine; I'll do it," I whimpered.

"There's a good girl," he cheered as he shook my face from side to side. Suddenly quite annoyed, I shoved his hand away from my face and glared at him under hooded eyes. He merely whooped at my attempt to be aggressive. "Now, now, don't be like that, toots," he chuckled as he bent down and picked up my clutch bag. Oh, such a gentleman. I grabbed the bag off him soon after. "Do this little thing for me and I'll be...out of your hair," he assured slowly as he toyed with a strand of my hair. This act received another slap to the hand and a harsh glare. He grinned at me and then unlocked the cubical. I quickly hobbled over to the bathroom sink to examine my appearance. The dried tears had left clear stains running down my face.

My body instantly tensed up again, when The Joker pressed his body against mine from behind. His hands went on either side of the sink, trapping me in a small enclosure. He placed his lips near my ear and whispered, "Don't forget to clean yourself up, toots. Oh, and you've got till next week to complete my favour. Unless you want me to show you my magic trick that is." He smirked mirthfully before quickly putting his mask back on. Snickering slightly, he left the bathroom.

Soon as the door shut, I let out a large, shaky exhale which I had been refusing to let out ever since he'd pressed up against me. More tears fell as I tried to wipe them away using the toilet paper. I quickly cleaned myself up and made by way back to the hall.

I immediately tried to find Bruce, but I couldn't seem to find him anywhere. He seemed to be engulfed in the sea of socialites, swallowed by all of the faux friendliness and gloating. However, I happened to spot The Joker disguised as a loner guest instantly. He seemed to be floating around the place. It was actually scary to think that this psychopath was openly wandering around the party without the guests being any the wiser. Without hesitation, I marched up to him beside the buffet table.

"What are you still doing here?" I whispered harshly. His neck snapped around to face me. Even though his face was covered by a mask, I knew he was grinning behind it.

"Free food," he replied quickly. After raising his mask ever so slightly, he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth and began chewing at it.

"Can you leave, please?" I requested as I picked up a glass of champagne.

Before I was able to take a sip of the alcoholic beverage, The Joker gripped my wrist and forced me to place the glass back down. "Tell me, Deliliah," he began as he gently clasped my hand in his. "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

"What?" I asked, bewildered at his question. Without a reply, he placed his other hand on the small of my back and led me towards the centre of the room, where other people were dancing. I subtly tried to struggle away from his grip, not wanting to attract too much attention to myself. His force was far more superior for me to be able to win the fight, however. "Stop it, let me go," I uttered under my breath.

Reluctantly I began to sway in time with the music with this monster of a man. Where was Bruce? I desperately wished I could find him or he'd find me. It was hard to tell who was who when everyone was wearing masks. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked, anxiously wanting to be let go.

"Red is a suiting colour on you, Delilah. Red is one of my favourite colours. It can represent, love, passion, romance...blood, murder, danger." His hand was slowly caressing my bare back roughly and his touch somehow felt as if it burnt my skin furiously.

"Ah, Delilah!" I heard a wonderful voice callout. My heard turned to see Bruce approaching closer. "There you are!"

"Bruce!" I exclaimed happily and The Joker's grip seemed to go limp probably indicating that I was free to leave. "I couldn't find you."

"Well, it's nice to see that you're socialising. Mind if I take this dance?" He asked The Joker, blissfully unaware of his true identity.

"She's all yours," he grumbled in reply. He bowed and motioned with his arm to take me. Once Bruce had his arms around me, The Joker dawdled away. I watched his uneven steps, until he had completely left the building.

"Who was that?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Uh, I didn't catch his name," I replied smoothly.

"Oh – I thought you'd fallen down the toilet," Bruce joked and chuckled slightly. I laughed also, a little awkwardly. I remembered Joker's warning not to tell anyone, so I kept shut about what truly happened in there.

The rest of the night was spent frantically scanning the room every five minutes in fear that The Joker was in the room still. However, I didn't find him. The last I saw of him was when he had stepped foot outside of the building. I could only hope that that'd be the last time I'd see him.


End file.
